


Alex

by OnthePole



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Drug Abuse, M/M, On-track death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnthePole/pseuds/OnthePole
Summary: This story will feature a graphic description of an on-track death. I'll let you know what chapter it is in so you can avoid if you don't want to read it.This idea has been in my head for almost 2 years now.A gift for Amie.





	1. Prologue: Feliz Cumpleanos, Alex Marquez!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Left37Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Left37Behind/gifts).



Unsurprisingly, his phone rings yet again.

 

He has no will to talk to anyone right now. Not today.

 

For the nth time that evening, Marc lets the call ring out without checking the caller ID.

 

\---

 

Twenty-three. Today Marc should be sat next to Alex at a bar in Austin, watching his brother laugh and grin and flirt with pretty girls on his birthday. Instead Marc finds himself in a vomit-stained shirt, cracked phone on the couch next to him after he threw it against the wall, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

 

"Take your time," Honda had assured him, "your seat is waiting for you when you are ready."

 

Ready?

 

Would he ever be ready again?

 

His phone startles him as it lights up again, caller identified as "Papa" and he knows he should answer, knows his mama must be sick with worry. He thinks that his parents must know he isn't okay, very far from it, but he was insistent that he spend this day alone. Alone, no one can hide the bottles of whisky and flush the marijuana down the toilet. Alone, he can smoke and drink himself to sleep. He rarely sleeps otherwise.

 

At least being stoned so much prevents his nightmares, which is a small mercy.

 

His phone lights up again, Emilio trying to reach him for the 6th time today.

 

Marc knows he can't keep avoiding the inevitable. Can't keep putting this off. He picks up his phone and swipes past the missed call list.

 

\---

 

marcmarquez93: Hoy, me retiro de MotoGP. Lo siento. | Today, I am retiring from MotoGP. I am sorry. #pistolas

 

 

 

 


	2. Ripe For the Taking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 2018 season begins, and while Alex is relieved Frankie is gone, Mir is looking to be pretty fast too.

**Losail International Circuit, Qatar**

 

 

2018 feels ripe for the taking.

 

He says this every year, of course, but this year it really was. Last year was supposed to be his year, but Frankie had happened. Now Frankie was gone, taken the MotoGP ride he wanted to be offered but there was just another year of being the second rider while Frankie got to have the big bike.

 

Not that Mir wasn’t a worry. Mir was fucking fast in testing, and he doesn’t like being outperformed by teammates. Alex thinks he simply has to work harder, study his telemetry sheets more, spend more time with Guille and the crew finessing the bike setup. He must get stronger, improve his stamina.

 

Alex blinks at his reflection in the mirror. These stolen moments alone in the bathroom of his cramped motorhome is the only peace he ever seems to get on race weekends, and the solitude allows him to reflect and talk himself into a strong state of mind.

 

_You are already a World Champion. You can do this._

__

__***_ _

 

Marc:  What time do you get back from the other Marc’s grasp jaja

Marc:  We need FIFA

Alex:  Why do you feel a need to get beaten? Masochist

Marc:  Fuck you

Marc:  But seriously FIFA

 

 ***

 

Marc could see the tension the moment his little brother entered the motorhome. Alex always seemed to harbor a bit of apprehension at the start of each new season. He was excited and happy, yes, but always seemed to nervous of what the timesheets would show that first weekend.

FIFA was just an excuse to check on him. Talk to him. Get his head on straight before he gets on the bike tomorrow. They pick teams in silence, falling into an old routine.

 

Marc feints to the left and steals the ball from Alex’s possession. “You know, you’re really fast this year.”

 

“Thanks?

 

“Remember 2014? Rufea team taking all three championships? Remember how good it felt to stand there with your family?

 

“We knew you could do it, Alex. That’s never changed. Yeah sure Frankie was there last year but this year you don’t have Frankie to worry about. I do. And year Mir is fast but he doesn’t have the experience on the Moto2 bike like you do.

 

“Without the arm pump distracting you, you’re super fast bro. I was texting Dani about it when you first had problems to ask his advice and he told me just now that he was impressed with your progress--”

 

“Wait. You text Dani?”

 

“...yeah?”

 

“Do you text him a lot?”

 

“No. I mean, well we talk a bit. And we play poker online but he’s scary good and I’m tired of losing my money, so…”

 

Alex chuckles knowingly. Marc hates it, because he knows why Alex is laughing at him, and Alex knows he knows and it just makes Alex laugh harder.

 

Prick.

 

“Can we not talk about Dani, we are talking about you. And how you are going to kick ass tomorrow, Speedy Gonzales.”

 

“Marc, he was a mouse that ran, not ride a bike.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

 ***

 

Marc:  I told Alex what you said, think it inspired him

Marc:  It was the right thing to say, you were right

Marc:  Thanks for your advice

 

 ***

 

_You are already a World Champion. You can do this._

__

__***_ _

 

Pole.

 

He isn’t sure how he’s done it, but this feels like a race win already. Mir had topped him in all free practices but couldn’t seem to put together a fast lap when it mattered. The extra studying and training feels validated, and Alex feels his body hum with confidence. __Pistolero, bitches.__

 

When his brother snags pole too, he knows they have to party.

 

***

 

The brothers step into their motorhome to a chorus of cheers. Looking around, Alex spots his mama and papa, Guille, Jose Luis, Tito, and strangely enough, Dani. Although he reasons that Dani has a reason to enjoy the evening, as he had qualified 3rd and shown his doubters that he was still fast, thank you.

 

Alex admires this most about Dani: Dani doesn’t give up. He is a race winner in every year of the championship. Not even Rossi can claim that.

 

He wonders when Dani had become part of their little group. When Alex jokingly voices this, Dani simply raises his eyebrow and and quips, “Who else am I going to hang out with? Jorge?”

 

This sends Marc into a loud chorus of __jajaja__  and Alex watches the open delight on his brother’s face at Dani’s joke. He looks at the smaller man and sees something similar shining out, an ease and openness that Alex thinks not many people get to see.

 

Somehow, Marc has gotten Dani Pedrosa to relax enough to have a beer at 10pm __on a race night.__

__

He wonders if Dani knows.

__

__***_ _

__

His start wasn’t that great, but Alex doesn’t even think about it as he crosses the finish line first.

 

Alex Marquez wins the 2018 Qatar Grand Prix.

 

2018 is ripe for the taking.


End file.
